A nautical tradition fades with transition from printed to electronic charts

Robert Zaremba holds an original French nautical map of Cape Cod dating to 1757 next to a NOAA map from 1986 showing Chatham before the North Beach break at the Maps of Antiquity shop in Chatham.

From Cape Cod Times by Doug Fraser

When Michael Campbell first traveled on trans-Atlantic merchant vessels in the 1980s, they still used tools similar to those on board Columbus’ ship to find the angle of sun, moon and stars and calculate the ship’s position when it was out to sea beyond the range of the radar used for coastal navigation.

At 56, Campbell doesn’t consider himself an ancient mariner, but the cadets he takes on training cruises are more comfortable with the computer screens on the ship’s bridge than the sextant, the spanner or the chart room maps.

Freshman cadet Dylan Lydell, of Jamestown, N.Y., works on a NOAA paper chart as part of a navigation lesson on the bridge simulator at Massachusetts Maritime Academy.
NOAA is beginning the process of phasing out printed nautical charts in favor of electronic chart displays, such as the one to Lyndell's right.

“Every ship I was on prior to coming to the Massachusetts Maritime Academy used a combination of paper and electronics,” Campbell said.
“We’d put our position down on paper charts and keep them up to date.”

But he knows the next generation of cadets will likely not traverse the campus with a rolled-up chart under their arm, or plot a course at sea with a spanner and pencil lines on a chart table.

“In the future, we’ll get to where those paper charts go away,” Campbell said.

That future begins this August when the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration quietly turns the page on a 170-year history of printing nautical charts.

New York Bay and harbor (Coast Survey 1845)

see Historical charts

 

The U.S. Coast Survey, now NOAA’s Office of Coast Survey, has been researching and printing charts since 1834.
 

Lake Tahoe with the GeoGarage platform (NOAA raster chart)

NOAA will begin to implement its sunset plan for paper nautical charts this month, starting w/ the current paper chart 18665, Lake Tahoe.

 

After August, NOAA’s electronic navigational chart will be the only NOAA nautical chart of the area.

 

Lake Tahoe’s paper chart No. 18665 the first to go

When NOAA retires Lake Tahoe’s paper chart No. 18665, it will be the first in a planned phase-out of their entire library of 1,000 paper nautical charts by 2025.

“It’s going to (fade away),” said James Deal, an instructor at New England Maritime for 25 years.
The Hyannis-based school offers maritime instruction and Coast Guard captain's license courses.

It’s part of an international movement away from the charts that have been guiding mariners since 13th Century Mediterranean seafarers committed so-called "sailing instructions" and geographical renderings to stretched calfskin, with lines between ports that corresponded to wind and compass direction.

In 2016, the U.S. Coast Guard allowed commercial ships to use electronic charting systems instead of paper charts in U.S. waters.
By 2018, the International Maritime Organization required that most commercial vessels on international trips use electronic maps and navigation systems.

“Do I feel nostalgic? Absolutely, but I understand the value of technology and the safety and economy it brings,” Deal said.

 

Coast Survey made a few early chart-coloring efforts.

In this 1867 chart, increased clarity of details came at a twelve-cent cost increase

Sales of paper charts on the decline

The decision is driven by twin realities.
Merchant ships like the Ever Given, which got stuck in the Suez Canal recently, have gotten progressively bigger and require much more sophisticated and up-to-date information to navigate in areas where their margin of safety has correspondingly shrunk.

And the general boating public now relies almost exclusively on electronics.

“While most people are aware that keeping paper charts on board is a really good idea, I would guess that the vast majority of boaters don’t,” said Scott Zeien, owner of the Kingman Yacht Center in Cataumet.
The yacht center sells very few paper charts or chart books, he said.

NOAA data shows that electronic chart sales have doubled in the past decade to where over 900,000 were bought in the U.S. in 2019 and 2020, while paper chart sales were cut in half from just over 200,000 in 2010 to around 100,000 last year.

Paper charts can still be ordered through private map printing services, although NOAA will no longer update the traditional charts, only the maps printed from electronic ones.
But overall, fewer and fewer people will use them.

“Electronics have made it so easy," Zeien said.
"I keep a chart on my boat, but have I looked at it twice in the last five years? Probably not.”

But maps and the information they provide have power, said Robert Zaremba, co-owner of the Chatham store Maps of Antiquity.
They were the first things pirates grabbed when they boarded a vessel because the maps opened up harbors and trade routes to sailors who might otherwise have little local knowledge.

“If you can’t envision another part of the world without going there, you don’t have any power,” Zaremba said.

He likes the idea of maps that would correlate data he’d find useful, such as the areas where drunk drivers are most often stopped or cancer hotspots.
Modern electronic mapping does just that, with overlayed layers of information available at the push of a button.

Modern merchant vessels and cruise ships almost have too much flooding the electronic screens on their bridge, and even less need for paper maps, explained David Mackey, who chairs the Marine Transportation department at Massachusetts Maritime Academy.

They use what is known as an Electronic Chart Display and Information System (ECDIS).
Computer-driven, it melds GPS information with radar, depth finders, automated ship identification beacons, known hazards, navigational aids such as buoys and lighthouses and other navigational information onto one screen.
Coastal changes and new hazards can be updated quickly without having to wait for printing.

“ECDIS has so much data on so many pages with sub-pages and sub-menus, that mariners are required to take courses in general ECDIS training,” Mackey said.

There's so much data, the successful navigator needs to find the right mix so that the screen is useful, not cluttered.
It's no longer possible to walk onto a ship’s bridge with just paper chart navigation skills, he said.

“Every device has its time to be important,” Zaremba said.

His business is selling maps and charts, but it’s purely nostalgic.
“They are not using them on their hikes or on their boats.
People are framing them and putting them up on their walls,” he said.

But the past still has its place, experts say.
“There is value in knowing the feeling and mechanics of fixing a ship’s position,” Deal said.

Deal joined the Coast Guard at 18 and spent 30 years on active duty and in the reserves.
Satellite navigation was still in its infancy and celestial navigation and paper charts were an everyday routine.
“You can stare at a computer screen, but you have to fully interpret and comprehend what the system is telling you,” he saidl.
“A commercial airliner can fly itself, but a pilot needs to understand why the plane flies because there’s always a worst-case scenario that can occur.”

 S102 Demonstrator showing a piloting scenario near Farsund in Norway.

The demonstrator is created by Kongsberg Digital, and is based on Kongsberg Digital's Cogs library for 3D visualization.

 

That’s why the Coast Guard still requires, for now, that those seeking licenses know how to use a paper chart.
Even though the systems are supposed to have backups, computers crash and electronics fail.
When you get into trouble, you have to know where you are and how to get to where you need to be.

Mackey, who is 63, teaches electronic navigation at the maritime academy, but can appreciate the reams of yellow legal paper he went through using spherical trigonometry to calculate a fuel- and time-saving Great Circle Route across the Atlantic.

He also knows the value of having eyes on the water, noting landmarks and the seamarks.
It all feeds into a knowledge base that can help future mariners truth-test the information they are getting from computer programs.

“They are far better than I am at manipulating (the ECDIS),” he said.
But he brings what he calls the “essence of navigation.”
“How do you not just rely on what it’s spitting out,” Mackey said.

Links :

• NOAA : NOAA begins transition exclusively to electronic navigation charts / Nautical charts contribute to economic development and national defense
• GeoGarage blog : NOAA seeks public comment on ending production of traditional paper nautical charts

Mapping the world’s key maritime choke points

 

From Visual Capitalist by Carmen Ang

Maritime transport is an essential part of international trade—approximately 80% of global merchandise is shipped via sea.

Because of its importance, commercial shipping relies on strategic trade routes to move goods efficiently.

These waterways are used by thousands of vessels a year—but it’s not always smooth sailing. In fact, there are certain points along these routes that pose a risk to the whole system.

Here’s a look at the world’s most vulnerable maritime bottlenecks—also known as choke points—as identified by GIS.

What’s a Choke Point?

 

Choke points are strategic, narrow passages that connect two larger areas to one another.

When it comes to maritime trade, these are typically straits or canals that see high volumes of traffic because of their optimal location.

Despite their convenience, these vital points pose several risks:

• Structural risks: As demonstrated in the recent Suez Canal blockage, ships can crash along the shore of a canal if the passage is too narrow, causing traffic jams that can last for days.
• Geopolitical risks: Because of their high traffic, choke points are particularly vulnerable to blockades or deliberate disruptions during times of political unrest.

The type and degree of risk varies, depending on location.

Here’s a look at some of the biggest threats, at eight of the world’s major choke points.

Because of their high risk, alternatives for some of these key routes have been proposed in the past—for instance, in 2013 Nicaraguan Congress approved a $40 billion dollar project proposalto build a canal that was meant to rival the Panama Canal.

As of today, it has yet to materialize. 

A Closer Look: Key Maritime Choke Points

 

Despite their vulnerabilities, these choke points remain critical waterways that facilitate international trade.

Below, we dive into a few of the key areas to provide some context on just how important they are to global trade. 

The Panama Canal

 

The Panama Canal is a lock-type canal that provides a shortcut for ships traveling between the Pacific and Atlantic oceans. Ships sailing between the east and west coasts of the U.S. save over 8,000 nautical miles by using the canal—which roughly shortens their trip by 21 days.

In 2019, 252 million long tons of goods were transported through the Panama Canal, which generated over $2.6 billion in tolls.

 

The Suez Canal

 
The Suez Canal is an Egyptian waterway that connects Europe to Asia.

Without this route, ships would need to sail around Africa, which would add approximately seven days to their trips.

In 2019, nearly 19,000 vessels, and 1 billion tons of cargo, traveled through the Suez Canal.

In an effort to mitigate risk, the Egyptian government embarked on a major expansion project for the canal back in 2015.

But, given the recent blockage caused by a Taiwanese container ship, it’s clear that the waterway is still vulnerable to obstruction. 

 

The Strait of Malacca

At its smallest point, the Strait of Malacca is approximately 1.5 nautical miles, making it one of the world’s narrowest choke points.

Despite its size, it’s one of Asia’s most critical waterways, since it provides a critical connection between China, India, and Southeast Asia.

This choke point creates a risky situation for the 130,000 or so ships that visit the Port of Singapore each year.
The area is also known to have problems with piracy—in 2019, there were 30 piracy incidents, according to private information group ReCAAP ISC. 

The Strait of Hormuz

 

Controlled by Iran, the Strait of Hormuz links the Persian Gulf to the Gulf of Oman, ultimately draining into the Arabian Sea.

It’s a primary vein for the world’s oil supply, transporting approximately 21 million barrels per day.
Historically, it’s also been a site of regional conflict.

For instance, tankers and commercial ships were attacked in that area during the Iran-Iraq war in the 1980s.

The Bab el-Mandeb Strait

 

The Bab el-Mandeb Strait is another primary waterway for the world’s oil and natural gas.

Nestled between Africa and the Middle East, the critical route connects the Mediterranean Sea (via the Suez Canal) to the Indian Ocean.
Like the Strait of Malacca, it’s well known as a high-risk area for pirate attacks.

In May 2020, a UK chemical tanker was attacked off the coast of Yemen–the ninth pirate attack in the area that year.
Due to the strategic nature of the region, there is a strong military presence in nearby Djibouti, including China’s first ever foreign military base.

Solo sailing on the Sea of Cortez

Morning light finds Liberte anchored under the rock formations of Bahía San Carlos.

David Kilmer

 

From CruisingWorld by David Kilmer

 

A sailor revisits old cruising grounds south of the border, where he relaunches his boat and embarks on a few days of exploring this wild coast of Mexico.

I had a small adventure of the grandest kind in November 2019.

I arrived by air in San Carlos, Mexico, where I launched my Beneteau 361, Liberte, into the northern Golfo de California, better known, perhaps, as the Sea of Cortez.

For the next 10 days I sailed alone through one of my favorite cruising grounds on the planet.

The sailing began, like many good trips, with a pre-dawn start.

 

Bahia San Carlos with teh GeoGarage platform

 

I woke at 0344, just before my alarm.

The tools of the trade lay where I’d placed them: headlamp, life jacket, personal locator beacon and harness.

By the headlamp’s red light, I started the Yanmar engine, readied the North main and hauled the Manson anchor, all familiar allies I’d been away from for too long.

I paused for a moment to take it all in.

There were dark cliffs on either side, with the sharp smell of guano from the rocks.

The moon was just setting, and by its pale light I could make out the twin peaks of Mount Tetakawi above.

Six days earlier, Liberte had been high and dry.

With help from local contractors—along with fellow sailors who were kind enough to offer rides to town—and several days of my own sweat equity, she’d been prepped, polished and provisioned.

Liberte’s hull now wore fresh coats of Ameron ABC 3 antifouling paint, with extra layers at the leading edges and waterline.

"What was I grateful for right then? Freedom to move. The consistency of water. This boat and the ability to guide it."

David Kilmer

 

I’d slept the first night on board in the yard, climbing a ladder, happy to find that my boat had weathered summer well under the landscape fabric for shade.

There was the anticipated layer of Sonoran dust on deck.

Below, everything was just as expected.

I’d bought Pollo Loco chicken for the painters, and I took the leftovers down to the guard shack.

The night guard and I spoke primitive Spanish, sat on overturned buckets and ate with our hands, watching bats fly out of the desert.

We saved scraps for the boatyard cat.

After paying all those dues in boat bucks and labor (one boat buck = $1,000), I relished my first evening on the hook.

My neighbor was an Austrian named Peter who’d just bought an Endeavor 35 and was as stoked as can be.

I paddled over to his pride and joy, where we sipped well-aged tequila with sailors from around the world.

It was a nice welcome back to the cruising life.

Now in the dark I waved at Peter’s boat as I passed; nobody stirring at this hour.

I booted up the iPad mini, and a chart came to life.

Time of departure: 0400.

I hoisted the main hand-over-hand, leaving one precautionary reef.

Today’s job was to take Liberte 74 miles west across the Sea of Cortez.

 

Highlights of the solo trip include hours at the helm, sailing along the Sierra de la Giganta mountain range.

David Kilmer

 

A wave rocked the boat.

An inland sailor in summer, I felt my body adjust to the motion.

More waves came, refracted around the headland, and then gusts of wind in the dark.

I grinned.

Lately I’d made a point to pay close attention, moment by moment, 

to everything, including my response to those things.

Sailing was a way to hone that attention.

When I felt unsettled, I’d grin and be grateful.

I’d look at everything, as author Betty Smith says, as if seeing it either for the first or last time.

What was I grateful for right then?

Freedom to move.

The consistency of water.

This boat and the ability to guide it.

Onward, then, trimming the main to the new wind as I cleared the point, looking back at the lights of shore, just once, then ahead into trackless waters, pretending I was bold Joshua Slocum off to hurdle the globe.

Or any adventurer from the books I adored as a boy.

I don’t lay awake longing for Arctic ice or infamous capes, but I’m crazy for outings like this. I love the planning, the preparation and the little voyage itself.

Being solo, I was discovering, further sharpened everything.

A beam wind now, and I could unfurl the jib and shake out the main.

The boat felt great in my hands.

The wind instruments were acting up again, so I sailed seat-of-the-pants, sensing subtle changes and responding.

I kind of liked it this way anyway.

Just days ago, these sails were in bags, lines bundled, Liberte lonely and landbound.

Now she was on the move again, at play in the elements, and I was fortunate to be along for the ride.

I shut down the engine, and it was just my boat, the wind and me.

 

Paddling amid the spires at San Juanico.David Kilmer

 

Land was shrinking astern, with all its information, obligation and illusion.

Now the only thing was to coax the boat along her cantering path and stay connected with her.

Alone, with thousands of feet of water below me.

Destination: unfamiliar.

Now was as good a time as ever for dread.

Or, instead, to allow that separation from shore to strip away all the detritus of ordinary life.

I took some sharp breaths into my belly, ready for action.

I checked on my little realm: harness clipped like I promised my sweetheart, sails trimmed and pulling nicely, lines flaked, and autohelm steering the proper course.

What would my mentor Gartly do?

He’s the pied piper who first lured me to sea; he’d told me last night when I texted him my float plan, “Enjoy the stars.”
So I did.

I stretched out on my back, hands laced behind my head, and contemplated the unspoiled night sky.

I gazed up at Orion, Taurus, and those lovely and coy Pleiades.

Then I saw a UFO.

At first I thought it was a satellite, but it was moving way too fast.

It stopped, jumped and stopped again. Then it was gone.

 

Arriving back in Mexico, the first order of business is to get Liberte cleaned, ­polished and painted.David Kilmer

 

Dawn came under the clouds and painted the edges of everything.

I grinned again, this time from genuine pleasure.

After 15 years and plenty of cruising miles, I knew this boat profoundly.

All her parts and pieces held their stories. I’d learned my way through systems stem to stern, and the rest would be on the punch list soon enough.

How beautifully she purred along! I knew better than to touch a thing.

Instead I did some shadow boxing and cockpit calisthenics.

I thoroughly enjoyed a bowl of homemade granola that had been tucked into my sea bag, my girl’s loving way of keeping some meat on my sailor bones.

The wind was remarkably steady, the right choice made to sail today on the tail end of a norther, between too much wind yesterday and none tomorrow.

I felt, as always in prime conditions, as though I were getting away with something.

The sun paced me lazily behind clouds.

Land began to appear in floating specks—there in the corner of the eye; gone if you looked right at it.

I saw no garbage and no other craft, just the faint smell of an oil rig on the wind for a long time before I could hear its far-off rumble.

 

Iconic sights in the Sea of Cortez include pelicans lining the shore at Bahía San Carlos searching for baitfish

David Kilmer

 

I shouted poetry to the clouds and belted vintage songs in a voice that would have scared Tom Waits.

I considered, one by one, the extraordinary people I have been so fortunate to know.

I thought about those I love and have loved, their presence close out here in the empty reaches.

The north wind was a steady companion, and Liberte ticked off 1 nautical mile after another.

I was pleased to see stretches of 7-something knots for speed—a good day in any small cruising boat. I took the helm sometimes for the sheer fun of it.

The only time I changed gears was for a couple of slow-moving rain clouds.

“De rain kill de wind,” as the Bequia sailors used to say.

And then, there it was, the intended harbor, and I performed the rituals of arrival.

A look at the charts, the dowsing of sails, and I glided into the wide and placid protection of Bahia Santa Inéz.

The anchor touched sand at 1600 hours. A textbook passage, which is not always the case.

The boat rocked gently as I tidied up the deck, lovingly rubbing down my little steed after such a fine gallop.

The sunset was transcendental.

It began with chiaroscuro effect through the peaks of the Sierra de la Giganta.

Then the light turned gold and slowly purple as beams shot skyward.

That sunset continued to reach out across the water until it had engulfed my sailboat and me in an overwhelmingly beautiful moment.

I forgot every bit of time, boat bucks and worry I’d spent to be here. I simply was.

 

Fishermen at Isla Danzante casting their nets.

David Kilmer

For the next week or so, I stayed in that blissful state.

I slept when tired and ate when hungry.

Doing my simple boat chores, I chopped wood and carried water, as the Zen koan goes.

 

Heading south down the Baja coastline, there were dozens of great anchorage options.

There are no ocean swells in the Sea of Cortez.

The wind waves can be steep during winter northers due to fetch and current, but this time of year, I had stellar weather.

I sailed every day on the afternoon sea breeze

 I saw dolphins off the bow, whales in the distance and rays jumping out of the water.

 

It had rained more than usual recently, and the mountains were as green as I’d ever seen them.

In San Juanico, a splendid anchorage of rock spires and long empty beaches, I rambled into the hills and found the desert full of life.

There were flowers everywhere, along with butterflies, bees and birds. An osprey had nested on a strategic outcropping, the best real estate in the bay, and was working the shoreline for fish.

At Isla Danzante, near Loreto, I was tickled to find my favorite anchorage open: a one-boat corner of Honeymoon Cove.

If I weren’t in an alternate reality already, this place sealed my fate.

I spent hours clambering mindlessly around, watching the light change on the desert and the sea.

Thumb-size cactus thrived in the cleft of a rock, and fish bones lay where something had made a meal.

 

Dolphins off the bow near Loreto, making good company.David Kilmer

There was another boat around the corner, and normally I would have stroked the paddleboard over to say hello, but I didn’t want to break the spell.

I saw huge schools of baitfish flashing in the clear water, with roosterfish hitting them from below while pelicans dived from above.

Most days I could empathize with those fish, but today I simply felt a part of it all—predator, prey and curious observer at the same time.

Cormorants took off, leaving dark rings in their wake.

A yellow-crowned night heron waited.

I was hopelessly enthralled.

 

Truth be told, I was perfectly at peace doing absolutely nothing there. I had guests to pick up soon, but I waited as long as possible.

That last night at the island, spent with just the critters and me, will be with me always.
As I chugged toward nearby Marina Puerto Escondido the next morning, I saw that I had come full circle.

Discovering the river slicing through the desert at San Juanico as a reward for taking a hike.

David Kilmer

This harbor was the first place I’d ever stepped foot on a cruising boat.

As a young man, I’d coaxed a battered Toyota pickup down Highway 101, stacked it high at San Diego’s chandleries, and hauled my contraband south to meet Gartly’s Cal 34, Marlin, at this very seawall.

From here, I’d helped him prep Marlin and sail her partway across the Pacific.

My life had never been the same.

In good times and bad on boats, I can always blame Gartly for that.
“Back to the scene of the crime,” I said out loud to nobody.
I realized it had been a while since I’d talked to anyone but birds and dolphins.

Maybe I was due for some human contact. I swung the bow toward what we call civilization.
After several seasons of East Coast cruising, David Kilmer and Liberte are back in Pacific Mexico.

 

Links :

• The Guardian : Whale watching in Mexico - in pictures

Oceanbird, a large retractable sail freighter to transport 7,000 cars at 10 knots

The 200 metres long and 40 metres wide cargo vessel will be able to cross the Atlantic in 12 days.
Oceanbird, a large retractable sail freighter to transport 7,000 cars at 10 knots

(Displacement: 32,000 ton)

 The wing sails are all of 80 metres tall, giving the ship a height above water line of approx 100 metres, but thanks to a telescopic construction they can be lowered, resulting in a vessel height above water line of approx 50 metres.
This comes in handy when passing under bridges or if the surface area of the wingsails needs to be reduced due to strong winds.
To be able to get in and out of harbours – and as a safety measure – the vessel will also be equipped with an auxiliary engine.
Powered by clean energy, of course.
The first vessel will be a cargo ship, but the concept can be applied to ships of all types, such as cruise ships.

Seaspiracy: Marine organisations and experts react to hit Netflix documentary

Seaspiracy examines the global fishing industry, challenging notions of sustainable fishing and showing how human actions cause widespread environmental destruction.

 

From The Independant by Kate NG

Groups point to ‘inaccuracies’ in film and reject allegations of animal welfare abuse

Seaspiracy, a documentary exposing the impact of pollution and over-fishing on marine life released on Netflix this week, has drawn criticism from marine organisations and experts all over the world.

 

The film, directed and presented by 27-year-old filmmakerAli Tabrizi, challenges the idea of sustainable mass fishing and alleges that commercial fishing industries are guilty of animal welfare abuses.

But some scientists and marine conservation groups have pointed out that the documentary contains “inaccuracies” and accused it of being “misleading”.

The Marine Stewardship Council (MSC), which assesses and grants certification to sustainable fisheries, responded to claims in the documentary that alleged sustainable fishing is not possible.
“This is wrong. One of the amazing things about our oceans is that fish stocks can recover and replenish if they are managed carefully for the long-term,” said the council.

“Examples of there this has happened and stocks have come back from the brink include the Patagonian tooth fish in the Southern Oceans or the recovery of Namibian hake, after years of overfishing by foreign fleets, of the increase in some of our major tuna stocks globally.

“What is even more amazing, is that if we take care of our fish stocks - they take care of us. Research shows that fish stocks that are well-managed and sustainable, are also more productive in the long-term, meaning there is more seafood for our growing global population, which is set to reach 10 billion by 2050.”

The group also responded to allegation that MSC certification is “not credible”, saying the process is “independent of us and carried out by expert assessment bodies” and can be viewed online at Track a Fishery.

“Contrary to what the filmmakers say, certification is not an easy process, and some fisheries spend many years improving their practices in order to reach our standard. In fact, our analysis shows that the vast majority of fisheries that carry out pre-assessments against our criteria, do not meet these and need to make significant improvements to gain certification.”

Scottish salmon farmers have also rejected allegations made by the film, which claimed that 50 per cent of farmed salmon die from disease and infection before they are harvested.

Mr Tabrizi took secret footage on a salmon farm in Loch Linnhe alongside anti-fish farming activist Don Staniford, where they find a tanker filled with dead fish that Mr Staniford described as evidence of welfare abuse.

A spokesperson for the Scottish Salmon Producers Organisation (SSPO) said: “While this film raises some very important issues, the allegations made against salmon farming in Scotland are wrong, misleading and inaccurate.
“Contrary to their claim, the filmmakers have no reached out to, or actively engaged with, our sector. Aquaculture is a key part of the answer, not the problem, with regards to concerns over wild fish stocks.”

 

The Plastic Pollution Coalition, who featured in the film, accused Mr Tabrizi of bullying staff and said the filmmakers “cherry-picked seconds of our comments to support their own narrative”.

Some experts said that while Seaspiracy carries an important message, it is lost amid “staged” scenes and out-of-context interviews.

Bryce Stewart, marine ecologist and fisheries biologist who lectures at the University of York, said in a Twitter thread: “Does [Seaspiracy] highlight a number of shocking and important issues? Absolutely. But is it misleading at the same time? Yes, from the first few minutes onwards.
“It regularly exaggerates and makes links where there aren’t any. Many of the scenes were clearly staged and I know at least one of the interviewees was taken out of context.

“Other ‘set ups’ made no sense - how can the marine life off the west coast of Africa be so abundant and so overfished (a real issue there) at the same time?
“This is the worst kind of journalism. People will either believe it and completely overreact, or find it so easy to discredit some of the statements that the real issues get downgraded or disbelieved. In that way I feel this film does more harm than good.
“On the flip side, it was good to highlight misconceptions about issues like the threat of plastic straws relative to many other factors. But where was climate change? I must have blinked and missed that. Please can we see a much more scientific and balanced film next time.”

Links :

• National Fisherman : Beyond ‘Seaspiracy’: Debunking damaging myths in fisheries
• Wired : Can Netflix’s Seaspiracy really shock people into not eating fish?